Infection
by UnityGhost
Summary: "It's a gross feeling, I know. The whole nightmare game. Truth is I'd rather face down an entire army of Michaels than go through that every night like I used to. Listen - I'm not Sam, but I know how to do this."


_A little while back, Willows Dancing in the Wind made the following suggestion:_

 _"I would like to see more Dean and Gabriel interaction. Maybe Dean having to wake Gabriel up from a nightmare and he's the only one home to comfort him. I'd like to see them bond over Hell."_

 _I'm adding this as part 12 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, even though most of the story focuses on Dean's treatment of Gabriel. It's part of the same story line, so why not include it in the series?_

 _Most of my regular readers are here for the Sabriel hurt/comfort. And that's what's coming next._

 _Also check me out on Tumblr to see how weird I am: .com_

 _Thanks for reading! And thanks to Willows Dancing in the Wind for the prompt!_

Gabriel had fallen asleep at the table.

Dean found him when he entered the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He wasn't surprised. Even with a fair portion of grace back in action, Gabriel was exhausted at least ninety percent of the time and functioned poorly without rest. In any case, sleep and nutrition accelerated the replenishment process. Most likely, by Castiel's estimates, Gabriel would have had to spend an extra month or so recovering from Asmodeus sucking him dry.

So here he was, face planted on the table between his arms. Next to his head was a half-drunk mug of coffee and an unwrapped granola bar.

Well, Dean thought, opening the fridge as quietly as he could, at least Gabriel had _tried_ to eat.

Dean sniffed at the deli drawer to make sure he was still more likely to die from ghouls slurping out his insides through a straw than by slimy roast beef, then fished out some cheese and grabbed a bottle of mayonnaise from one of the side shelves. He hoped he could find at least one clean plate in the cupboard.

"Stop."

Crap, he'd been too loud.

Dean turned. "Sorry man, I - "

But Gabriel was still unconscious. He'd shifted so that his face was turned to the side.

Dean watched him carefully. Gabriel moaned softly. "Stop," he mumbled again.

Dean set the mayonnaise back on the shelf. "Gabe."

Gabriel flinched in his sleep.

"Gabe," Dean repeated, louder this time.

Gabriel jerked awake and shot upright. He didn't spot Dean right away but still looked panicked once he did.

"Gabriel," said Dean, "Everything okay?"

Gabriel's breathing was tight and rapid. "Dean?"

"Just me." He could see how badly Gabriel was trembling. "This was a bad one, huh?"

"Dean, where's Sam?"

A pause. "He went out."

Gabriel turned chalk-white.

"He's with Cas," Dean explained. "They're just getting a bite to eat."

Gabriel shook more violently. "Okay."

Dean moved over to the table and took a seat beside him. "Want me to make you a fresh cup of coffee?"

Gabriel's eyes fell on the half-empty mug. "How long have I been asleep?"

"When'd you decide to pass out in here?"

Gabriel considered. "2:00? 2:30? I was planning on having lunch."

Dean glanced at the untouched granola. "And lunch was a Quaker bar."

Gabriel shrugged.

"You've been out for an hour and a half," Dean told him. "So how about that coffee?"

"No. No thanks. Sick to my stomach."

"Same old routine, huh? Glass of water, then."

"I can't right now."

But Dean went to the sink and filled a glass anyway, then set it in front of Gabriel. "If you change your mind."

Gabriel stared at the glass. "Thanks."

Dean resettled himself next to Gabriel. "It's a gross feeling, I know. The whole nightmare game. Truth is I'd rather face down an entire army of Michaels than go through that every night like I used to."

Gabriel offered no response.

"Listen," Dean went on, "I'm not Sam, but I know how to do this."

Gabriel looked at him.

"You know how many years of experience I have trying to hold someone together? Doesn't always work, but I ain't a new pledge."

Gabriel had calmed down a little, not quite as tense as he had been a few moments before. "You probably don't want to watch the show."

"I can guarantee you I've put on better performances."

"Trust me, it gets ugly."

"Yeah, I know. But it's uglier if you're alone."

"Dean, I don't expect - "

"Hey. It's all good. We don't have to talk if you don't wanna talk; I can just sit here, give you … moral support."

Gabriel sighed. "It's your funeral."

"So can you think of anything that'd …" Dean made vague gestures with his hands. "... help?"

"Well, you're not mad or freaked out, so don't worry about extra credit."

"What are the extra credit options?"

"You could write a paper on how much of a disaster I am. Sam can grade it."

"Pass."

"You're not a sympathy puker, are you?"

"Who do you think was the one to clean up after a preschool-aged Sam, huh?"

"I just wanted to make sure you have the credentials for this job." Gabriel paused. "You know that's what Sam called it? His 'job'?"

"I think it's more than that to him."

" _Why_? Just …" Gabriel struggled for the right words. " _Why_?"

Dean considered. "No offense, but if you'd seen yourself when you first got here, you'd probably understand."

Gabriel gave a hollow laugh. "I wouldn't have touched me with a ten-foot pole."

"What can I say? Sam is … you know, sometimes I wonder why he stuck with hunting. The kid used to catch spiders in cups and take them outside. He sees someone like you and just …"

Gabriel smiled. "Catches me in a cup and puts me outside?"

"Nah, man, he wanted to hold onto you."

"That was a strange decision."

"I don't know Gabriel, he just cares."

"Yeah, okay, but - I mean, Cas I can sort of get. He's my brother and maybe he feels like he has to do something. But Sam? Dean, I'm the most irritating bitch of an archangel in all of Dad's creation."

"Right, I forgot how much more fun it is to watch Lucifer and Michael corrupt the integrity of existence itself than to pick you up off the floor once in a while."

Gabriel slumped in his chair. "It drives me nuts that your brother's so good at both."

"I'd like to say he learned it from me, but I've gotten more out of watching him than I'd ever be able to come up with on my own."

"Yeah, well …" Gabriel ran both hands through his hair. "Shit."

Dean watched him carefully. "Gabe, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Takes me a little while is all."

"You wanna tell me about it?"

Gabriel groaned, still holding his head. "I just - this always ends messy. I don't even remember what I say to Sam most of the time; all I know is there's never any pride left to spare."

"I'll leave you alone if that's what you want, but I don't think it is."

"Mm. Yeah. I guess not."

They sat in silence for a while. Gabriel kept his head lowered and his eyes fixed on the table.

Dean was surprised when Gabriel was the first to speak. "Asmodeus did so much to hurt me. Even if I manage to catch a break from thinking about one form of torture, there's another right behind it. And angels aren't supposed to dream. When we do it's … it's so real."

"I don't think that's unique to angels," Dean told him.

Gabriel lifted his head. "I can't wait for all this to be over. These nightmares, they're screwing me up so bad."

"You just gotta wait for your grace to come back and then take it from there."

Gabriel looked desperate. "I don't know how to wait this out. It's taking too long."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You're an archangel and six months feels like a long time to you?"

"Yes! I mean, look at Sam! He's _fine_. He has his bad days but he's so …so not like me. And you, too. You both went through the same thing I did and you're _human_. _You're_ the ones who are supposed to have low expectations."

Dean's expression soured. "Thanks, Gabriel. Look, I think you're missing a few pieces here. One, Sam doesn't just have 'bad days.' He'd never let you witness it, but sometimes the resemblance between you guys is creepy. Two, you were in the pit for a long-ass time, longer than me or Sam. And three, I'm not the role model you should be looking to when it comes to making a healthy recovery. I was in there for less than a century and sometimes I can't see three feet ahead because someone looked at me funny. Cut yourself a break."

Gabriel squirmed. "But I can't tell there's anything wrong with you! I could settle for just being able to pretend."

"Bad idea. I know archangels probably don't _have_ livers, but - "

"Sam keeps reminding me it's going to take longer than I think it should," Gabriel continued. "Tell me, Dean: if you guys are still as damaged as you say, how is it that you function? How do you … how do you just keep going without falling apart _again_ and _again_?"

Dean looked down at his hands. "If I knew, I'd pass along my wisdom."

"Dean, you're both so much stronger than I am."

"No."

"You are. I'm not trying to host a pity-party; I'm giving the facts."

"Gabe - " Dean turned back to him. "Beating the crap out of yourself isn't gonna do anything except pull you backwards. You were in Hell. You were screwed over in the worst way. And the only person who's mad at you for the fallout is you. Me and Sam … we don't like seeing you like this. The most you should've gotten for being such a jerk to us before is maybe a solid half hour of me yelling at you. But this? What you actually wound up with? I wouldn't have ever wished that on you. I wouldn't send anyone to Hell unless they were part of the administration. It sucks down there, Gabriel. It sucks and we just want to help."

He watched as Gabriel's eyes filled with tears. Normally, Dean would have frozen up, but he'd been expecting things to go south sooner or later. He had known that the situation would become, as Gabriel put it, "ugly."

"Dean," Gabriel croaked, "I spill my guts to your brother even though I know better, and no matter how many times I let him take care of me, I still haven't - haven't told him even half of what Asmodeus did to me - and hardly anything about what Asmodeus made _me_ do. I can't. If Sam let me talk about that stuff, everything would change. You'd all look at me differently. You wouldn't want to _room_ with me. There's so much I - " He turned away, and the last words came out as a sob. "So much I can't tell any of you."

"Hey," Dean replied softly, wondering if it was better to reach out or give him space. "If there's stuff you don't want to say, you don't have to say it. If you keep it to yourself just because you think those are the rules, you've gotta let one of us try to change your mind."

"Have you - " Gabriel's head was lowered towards his lap, his eyes squeezed shut. "Did Sam ever tell you anything? Any of what I confessed to him?"

"No. I don't think he'd do something like that."

"But you know the kinds of things they do in Hell." Gabriel shuddered, then opened his eyes. "You know how they ... everything that they ..."

"Of course I do," Dean said gently.

"So some of it ... you might be able to guess."

Dean grimaced. "I think it might be more than just 'some.'"

"But how do you know when it's cool to talk about it? What if people really _do_ start seeing you like ... like what you already know you are?"

"Okay, look." Dean shifted his chair so that he was facing Gabriel. "I'm not exactly an over-sharer myself, but Sam and Cas have never, ever given me crap for bringing up the worst. Including the torture that I carried out with my own two hands. And when I was in Hell, _everything_ happened to me - and whatever happened to me, I did to the newbies over and over and over again. And Sam? When he was in Hell, that kid saw the dark. There's still mountains of crap he won't tell me no matter how hard I push. The truth is that if anyone's permanently messed up, it's him." Dean's softened his tone. "Just like you said, I know what they do down there. I know, and so does Sam. Now, I don't know exactly what you went through for all that time, but a solid fifty percent of it is bound to be familiar. If anyone's gonna judge you for what happened, it ain't us."

For almost a full minute, Gabriel simply stared at him, eyes bright with fear. Dean decided to ride the silence out, to let Gabriel take control of the conversation.

When Gabriel finally spoke, his voice trembled. "What if you three do everything to help and it doesn't work? What if it's a waste of your time? Dean, I - " He clenched his fists, face crumpling again. "I don't think I'm going to get better."

"Hey, you know us. We're stubborn sons of bitches and we don't give up easy. For better or worse, you're gonna have to live with that."

Gabriel went on crying, trying to choke it down.

Dean pushed the glass of water towards him. "All right, drink some of that. It'll only do you good."

Gabriel shook his head, eyes locked shut again.

"Come on, Gabe, you know it'll help."

"I can't," Gabriel rasped. "Dean, I feel really sick."

"I promise this is the best thing for that."

" _No_!"

"Okay. Okay. Then let's get you lying down or something. You're exhausted and you need to be somewhere you can take it easy." Dean got to his feet and carefully touched Gabriel's shoulder to signal that he should rise too. Gabriel didn't flinch at the contact. "Let's go; I'll stay with you until Sam gets back."

With a strangled sob, Gabriel stood up. He moved a little unevenly as they made their way down the hall, but mostly because he was still shivering, not because he couldn't balance.

They arrived at Gabriel's room and Dean ushered him inside, leaving the door open so that Sam could hear them when he arrived home. Gabriel lay on his side and curled up, turning his tear-streaked face away from Dean.

"Take off your shoes; get comfortable," Dean instructed. "Just relax, Gabe; it's gonna be fine. You wanna talk, we'll talk; you wanna lie there and just not think about anything, that's okay too."

"I can't not think about it," Gabriel whispered. "The dream."

"But you don't want to say what it was."

"It's no different from what I usually dream about. That's the problem. Everything is the same and it shocks my whole system no matter how many times I see it. I thought maybe I'd get inured to it after a while, but I - I didn't." He hesitated before adding, "I keep dreaming that he comes here. Not even that he manages to get past the warding, but that he rings the doorbell and one of you lets him in. I scream; I always end up clinging to Sam, trying to get him to help me, just - just begging for one of you to reconsider, and then Asmodeus grabs me and I can't breathe and - "

"All right, all right. Try to calm down. Here, let's talk about something different, okay? Something to keep your mind off that asshat. What else d'you want to talk about?"

Gabriel rolled over so that he was lying on his back, looking up at Dean. "There's nothing else. There's only him. That's all I am now, Dean. He took everything away."

"No, that's not true, come on."

"It is. I can't be distracted. Sam's tried that, and it never works. It hasn't done any good, not even once."

"Okay, so then what else might help?"

"Nothing helps. It just doesn't. I have to wait it out."

"All right." Dean sat down on the bed. "We'll wait it out together, okay?"

There was a long moment of silence during which Dean simply sat still and Gabriel hugged himself, shaking. When Gabriel failed to speak, Dean took the initiative. "You doing okay?"

"Just scared," Gabriel muttered.

"Nothing to be scared of."

"I know, I know - I'm trying."

"Don't put too much pressure on yourself. If you're afraid, then you're afraid. It'll pass, like you said."

"Hey, can you, uh ... can you get the wastebasket for me? I think I might throw up."

"Sure thing." Dean moved it next to the bed, within Gabriel's immediate reach. "You're gonna be okay."

"Don't get excited." A beat, then: "You said you know what it's like. And so you know it won't go away. You're still there. The feeling infects everything."

"Yeah, I do know."

"Sometimes I ... I look at Sam and even he doesn't seem safe anymore. It's like I can taste the dream at the back of my throat."

"I get it, man. I really do."

Gabriel closed his eyes. "This is too much."

"Just ride it out, Gabe."

Gabriel suddenly jerked upright, panicked. "Dean - "

Dean picked up the wastebasket and gave it to him. Gabriel dry-heaved, struggling for breath.

"Hey," said Dean, "You want me to touch you or no?"

Gabriel whimpered. "Help."

Dean inched nearer and rested a hand on Gabriel's back. "You're doing good."

Gabriel gagged, bringing up the half-cup of coffee he'd managed before falling asleep, as well as whatever Sam had coaxed into him that morning.

Dean was so intent on trying to ground Gabriel that he didn't notice his brother and Castiel in the doorway.

"Oh god!" Sam sprinted over to them. Gabriel, too sick to raise his head, didn't seem to notice. "Dean, what happened to him?"

"Just a shitty nap." Keeping his hand in place, Dean glanced over at Cas. "You two have a good time?"

Castiel's eyes were fixed on Gabriel. "Better than yours, I'd imagine."

Sam looked on in horror as Gabriel continued to vomit. "Dean, why didn't you call me?"

"Because we were okay."

"You call this okay?"

"Come on, it isn't like you're seeing anything new. You were out and I was here and we were fine."

Sam moved nearer and bent down to examine Gabriel. "Gabriel?"

Gabriel was pale and shaking. He stared down into the wastebasket for a few seconds before throwing up again.

"He's bad," Sam whispered.

"I think he's almost done." Dean peered more closely at Gabriel's face. Gabriel spat into the wastebasket and raised his eyes to meet Dean's. "See, look at that."

"Gabriel?" Sam pried the wastebasket from his hands and put it on the floor. "Hey, Gabriel, what happened?"

Gabriel coughed weakly. "Why the hell are you acting so surprised?"

"Guess I shouldn't've left you alone, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, Sammy, he wasn't alone," Dean protested.

Sam sat down on Gabriel's other side. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Gabriel waved him away. "I can survive two hours without you."

Maybe Dean was imagining it, but he thought Sam looked almost hurt.

"Dean," said Castiel, "You shouldn't hesitate to let one of us know if something feels out of your depth."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cas. What do you guys think I am, a Vulcan?"

"A Klingon," Sam admitted.

"Okay, Sam, you know what?" Still resting his hand on Gabriel's back, he met Sam's gaze. "First of all, why'd you leave if you thought I'd only make things worse? And second, if anyone should be writing a half-assed letter of recommendation, it's definitely not you."

Sam closed his eyes in frustration. "This isn't the same thing."

"No, Sam, he has a point," Castiel broke in. "When children learn to play the piano for the first time and all they know is 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' ... it isn't as though they forget which keys can be used to form a different melody."

"Well," said Dean, "I just lost twenty years' worth of testosterone, but I appreciate the new attitude."

"Will you stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Gabriel snapped. "Sam, leave your brother alone. Cas, give Dean his testosterone back. And Dean, if these two eventually decide I'm worth consulting, you won't need that letter of recommendation."

Sam glanced between Dean and Gabriel.

"Stop worrying so much," Dean told him. "I'm not made of stone."

"I think you may have underestimated your brother, Sam," Cas agreed.

Sam looked at Castiel, then back at Gabriel. "Did I, Gabe?"

"Yeah," Gabriel replied, "It looks like you did. _Man_ , are you both annoying." But he leaned into Sam's body and hugged him.

"Okay." Sam returned the embrace. "Sorry, I ... I guess you just looked pretty wrecked when I came in."

"That's because I _am_ a wreck." Gabriel pulled away. "How is that news?"

"In any case," said Castiel, "You must feel worn out. It sounds like it's been a long afternoon."

"Yeah." Gabriel laid his head on Dean's shoulder, failing to notice Sam's look of astonishment. "Feels like I can hardly move."

"You were quite sick," Cas agreed.

"What do you think about trying to lie down?" asked Dean.

Gabriel scoffed. "Because that went so well the last time."

"Okay, yeah, but you're over the worst of it, don't you think?"

"Maybe. I guess."

"Why don't I stay with you for a little while?" Sam suggested.

Gabriel lifted his head from Dean's shoulder. "It'd be good to talk to you."

"Yeah, okay. Guys, I'll take care of things in here. You go relax."

Dean stood up. "Holler if Sam gets too annoying."

Gabriel smiled.

Out in the hall, Castiel turned to Dean. "Don't let Sam's skepticism get to you; he ... he just feels guilty that he might not be doing enough."

"Gabe's better than he was," Dean replied. "I hope Sam can see that."

"Even if he does, he may not attribute the improvement to his own efforts."

"I'll give him a pep talk."

"And I certainly hope," Castiel added, studying Dean closely, "That you know your input counts for something too."

"All right. Well." Dean turned and started making his way back down the hall. "While you and Sam were out feasting, I never got an opportunity to finish my sandwich. Come sing my praises in the kitchen."


End file.
